Harry Potter: Hunted
Chapter 1
On The Run
Harry could not believe what had just happened. Dementors here, in Little Whinging…
Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking, Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then heard loud, running footsteps behind him; instinctively raising his wand again, he spun on his heel to face the newcomer.
, their batty old neighbour, came panting into sigh. Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist, and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made ro stow his wand hurriedly out of sight but –
"Don't put it away, Idiot boy!" she shrieked. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"
What?" said Harry blankly.
"He left!" said Mrs. Figg, wringing her hands.
"Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went, and now look! Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr. Tibbies on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry, now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will kill him!"
"But —"
The revelation that his batty old cat-obsessed neighbor knew what dementors were was almost as big a shock to Harry as meeting two of them down the alleyway.
"You're — you're a witch?"
"I'm a Squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off dementors? He left you completely without cover when I warned him —"
"This bloke Mundungus has been following me? Hang on — it was him! He Disapparated from the front of my house!"
"Yes, yes, yes, but luckily I'd stationed Mr. Tibbies under a car just in case, and Mr. Tibbies came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone — and now — oh, what's Dumbledore going to say? You!" she shrieked at Dudley, still supine on the alley floor. "Get your fat bottom off the ground, quick!"
"You know Dumbledore?" said Harry, staring at her.
"Of course I know Dumbledore, who doesn't know Dumbledore? But come on — I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag —"
She stooped down, seized one of Dudley's massive arms in her wizened hands, and tugged.
"Get up, you useless lump, get up!"
But Dudley either could not or would not move. He was still on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced, his mouth shut very tight.
"I'll do it." Harry took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved: With an enormous effort he managed to hoist Dudley to his feet. Dudley seemed to be on the point of fainting: His small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading his face; the moment Harry let go of him he swayed dangerously.
"Hurry up!" said Mrs. Figg hysterically.
Harry pulled one of Dudley's massive arms around his own shoulders and dragged him toward the road, sagging slightly under his weight. Mrs. Figg tottered along in front of them, peering anxiously around the corner.
"Keep your wand out," she told Harry, as they entered Wisteria Walk. "Never mind the Statute of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery . . . This was exactly what Dumbledore was afraid of — what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr. Prentice. . . . Don't put your wand away, boy, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?"
It was not easy to hold a wand steady and carry Dudley along at the same time. Harry gave his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. He was slumped on Harry's shoulder, his large feet dragging along the ground.
"Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib?" Harry asked Mrs. Figg, panting with the effort to keep walking. "All those times I came round your house — why didn't you say anything?"
"Dumbledore's orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, you know. . . . But oh my word," she said tragically, wringing her hands once more, "when Dumbledore hears about this — how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight — where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what's happened, I can't Apparate —"
"I've got an owl, you can borrow her," Harry groaned, wondering whether his spine was going to snap under Dudley's weight.
"Harry, you don't understand! Dumbledore will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words —"
"But I was getting rid of dementors, I had to use magic — they're going to be more worried what dementors were doing floating around Wisteria Walk, surely?"
"Oh my dear, I wish it were so but I'm afraid — MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"
There was a loud crack and a strong smell of mingled drink and stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat materialized right in front of them. He had short bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair, and bloodshot baggy eyes that gave him the doleful look of a basset hound; he was also clutching a silvery bundle that Harry recognized at once as an Invisibility Cloak.
"'S' up, Figgy?" he said, staring from Mrs. Figg to Harry and Dudley. "What 'appened to staying undercover?"
"I'll give you undercover!" cried Mrs. Figg. "Dementors, you useless, skiving sneak thief!"
"Dementors?" repeated Mundungus, aghast. "Dementors here?"
"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!" shrieked Mrs. Figg. "Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!"
"Blimey," said Mundungus weakly, looking from Mrs. Figg to Harry and back again. "Blimey, I . . ."
"And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't I?"
"I — well, I —" Mundungus looked deeply uncomfortable. "It . . . it was a very good business opportunity, see . . ."
Mrs. Figg raised the arm from which her string bag dangled and whacked Mundungus around the face and neck with it; judging by the clanking noise it made it was full of cat food.
"Ouch — gerroff — gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!"
"Yes — they — have!" yelled Mrs. Figg, still swinging the bag of cat food at every bit of Mundungus she could reach. "And — it — had — better — be — you — and — you — can — tell — him — why — you — weren't — there — to — help!"
"Keep your 'airnet on!" said Mundungus, his arms over his head, cowering.
"I'm going, I'm going!" And with another loud crack, he vanished. "I hope Dumbledore murders him!" said Mrs. Figg furiously. "Now come on, Harry, what are you waiting for?"
Harry decided not to waste his remaining breath on pointing out that he could barely walk under Dudley's bulk. He gave the semiconscious Dudley a heave and staggered onward.
"I'll take you to the door," said Mrs. Figg, as they turned into Privet Drive. "Just in case there are more of them around. . . . Oh my word, what a catastrophe . . . and you had to fight them off yourself . . . and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs. . . . Well, it's no good crying over spilled potion, I suppose . . . but the cat's among the pixies now . . ."
"So," Harry panted, "Dumbledore's . . . been having . . . me followed?"
"Of course he has," said Mrs. Figg impatiently. "Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent. . . . Right . . . get inside and stay there,"she said as they reached number four. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."
"What are you going to do?" asked Harry quickly. "I'm going straight home," said Mrs. Figg, staring around the dark street and shuddering.
"I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Good night."
"Hang on, don't go yet! I want to know —" But Mrs. Figg had already set off at a trot, carpet slippers flopping, string bag clanking.
"Wait!" Harry shouted after her; he had a million questions to ask anyone who was in contact with Dumbledore; but within seconds Mrs. Figg was swallowed by the darkness. Scowling, Harry readjusted Dudley on his shoulder and made his slow, painful way up number four's garden path.
The hall light was on. Harry stuck his wand back inside the waistband of his jeans, rang the bell, and watched Aunt Petunia's outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass in the front door.
"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite — quite — Diddy, what's the matter?" Harry looked sideways at Dudley and ducked out from under his arm just in time. Dudley swayed for a moment on the spot, his face pale green, then he opened his mouth at last and vomited all over the doormat.
"DIDDY! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!"
Harry's uncle came galumphing out of the living room, walrus mustache blowing hither and thither as it always did when he was agitated. He hurried forward to help Aunt Petunia negotiate a weak-kneed Dudley over the threshold while avoiding stepping in the pool of sick.
"He's ill, Vernon!"
"What is it, son? What's happened? Did Mrs. Polkiss give you something foreign for tea?"
"Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?"
"Hang on — you haven't been mugged, have you, son?"
Aunt Petunia screamed.
"Phone the police, Vernon! Phone the police! Diddy, darling, speak to Mummy! What did they do to you?"
In all the kerfuffle, nobody seemed to have noticed Harry, which suited him perfectly. He managed to slip inside just before Uncle Vernon slammed the door and while the Dursleys made their noisy progress down the hall toward the kitchen, Harry moved carefully and quietly toward the stairs.
"Who did it, son? Give us names. We'll get them, don't worry."
"Shh! He's trying to say something, Vernon! What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy!" Harry's foot was on the bottommost stair when Dudley found his voice.
"Him." Harry froze, foot on the stair, face screwed up, braced for the explosion.
"BOY! COME HERE!"
With a feeling of mingled dread and anger, Harry removed his foot slowly from the stair and turned to follow the Dursleys. The scrupulously clean kitchen had an oddly unreal glitter after the darkness outside. Aunt Petunia was ushering Dudley into a chair; he was still very green and clammy looking. Uncle Vernon was standing in front of the draining board, glaring at Harry through tiny, narrowed eyes.
"What have you done to my son?" he said in a menacing growl.
"Nothing," said Harry, knowing perfectly well that Uncle Vernon wouldn't believe him.
"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice, now sponging sick from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "Was it — was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use — his thing?"
Slowly, tremulously, Dudley nodded.
"I didn't!" Harry said sharply, as Aunt Petunia let out a wail and Uncle Vernon raised his fists. "I didn't do anything to him, it wasn't me, it was —"
But at that precise moment a screech owl swooped in through the kitchen window. Narrowly missing the top of Uncle Vernon's head, it soared across the kitchen, dropped the large parchment envelope it was carrying in its beak at Harry's feet, and turned gracefully, the tips of its wings just brushing the top of the fridge, then zoomed outside again and off across the garden.
"OWLS!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, the well-worn vein in his temple pulsing angrily as he slammed the kitchen window shut. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!"
But Harry was already ripping open the envelope and pulling out the letter inside, his heart pounding somewhere in the region of his Adam's apple.
Dear Mr. Potter, We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle. The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. As you have already received an official warning for a previous offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on August 12th.
Hoping you are well,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hophirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
Harry read the letter through twice. He was only vaguely aware of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia talking in the vicinity. Inside his head, all was icy and numb. One fact had penetrated his consciousness like a paralyzing dart. He was expelled from Hogwarts. It was all over. He was never going back.
He looked up at the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon was purple-faced, shouting, his fists still raised; Aunt Petunia had her arms around Dudley, who was retching again.
Harry's temporarily stupefied brain seemed to reawaken. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. There was only one thing for it. He would have to run — now. Where he was going to go, Harry didn't know, but he was certain of one thing: At Hogwarts or outside it, he needed his wand. In an almost dreamlike state, he pulled his wand out and turned to leave the kitchen.
"Where d'you think you're going?" yelled Uncle Vernon. When Harry didn't reply, he pounded across the kitchen to block the doorway into the hall. "I haven't finished with you, boy!"
"Get out of the way," said Harry quietly. "You're going to stay here and explain how my son —"
"If you don't get out of the way I'm going to jinx you," said Harry, raising the wand.
"You can't pull that one on me!" snarled Uncle Vernon. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!"
"The madhouse has chucked me out," said Harry. "So I can do whatever I like. You've got three seconds. One — two — three — Ducklifors! "
AN: All the Above (except Harry casting Ducklifors is copied from Harry Potter and The Order of the Pheonix)
A brilliant yellow light burst from Harry's Wand and impacted Vernon, who was enveloped in a bright banana-yellow light.
Aunt Petunia shrieked and Dudley, who was still suffering from the effects of the Dementor Attack fainted, just as the light subsided to reveal a terrified and panicked duck.
"It'll wear of in a few days," said Harry, before he turned and continued on his way up to his room. Just as Harry opened the door to his room he heard the distinctive crack signifying apparition.
Harry quickly made sure that he had everything, before he place a password activated shrinking charm on his trunk and Firebolt. He put the Trunk into his pocket as two men in official looking robes came into his room.
"Who are you?" questioned Harry, he of course knew who they were, the ministry officials here to snap his wand.
"Hand over your wand," the one on the left said calmly, he was a short-plump wizard with blond hair and blue eyes, covered by an ugly pair of thick glasses, similar to Trelawny's, he was dressed in a light blue robe, the same colour as his eyes.
"I don't think so… Slugulus Eructo!" yelled Harry, causing a green light to erupt from his wand and hit the blond wizard, who kneeled over and started vomiting slugs on the dusty floor of his bedroom.
The other Wizard, Long, with black hair and eyes, were an equally dark robe, pointed his wand at Harry and cast, " Expelliarmus!"
"Protego! Flipendo!" There was a loud bang as the knockback jinx took effect and the wizard was sent right into a wall, landing on some slugs vomited by his other partner, who was still vomiting, and his wand, which lay next to him, was covered in slime.
Without waited for the dark-haired wizard to get up Harry ran down the stairs, his belongings inside the shrunk trunk, which was inside his pocket.
His Firebolt and Invisibilty Cloak in one hand, his wand in the other he reached the living room, and found the Dursley's gathered still gathered around Dudley, who was still, looking very ill.
"Give him chocolate, he'll feel better."
"Stupefy," Harry leapt away just in as the stunning spell flew right were his head was and impacted the wall, leaving a scorch mark.
Harry turned around from his spot on the ground and said quickly, "Anteoculatia! Expelliarmus!"
A burst of red light caused the wizard to sprout antlers, which unbalanced him, causing him to tumble down the stairs and be hit easily by the disarming spell, which Harry followed up with a "Stupefy!" rendering the ministry representative unconscious and out of the fight.
Harry then ran out of the house before any more ministry officials arrived to check help the two he had already defeated.
As Harry rounded the corner, he heard several loud cracks signifying apparition, which meant that Harry couldn't fly off on his broom right now, otherwise he would be caught, so saying the password to shrink his broom, he quickly put it inside his pocked and ran quicker, hoping to get far enough away from Privet Drive, to somewhere they could not find him.
Harry knew now that he was on the run from the Ministry and Voldemort. Harry would have to find a safe place where he could hide from both Voldemort and the Ministry, and a place where the wards would stop his magic from being detected, giving him the ability to practice magic and continue his education, without attending Hogwarts.